The question I get asked most is whether to go with one big light over the island or a few smaller ones spread across the ceiling, and my answer is almost always a few smaller ones. One fixture in the middle of a kitchen is doing a job built for three. Pendants in a row, or a mix of pendants and recessed cans, let you light the counter where you're actually chopping something and the sink where you're squinting at a wine glass for water spots, instead of one pool of light in the center and shadows everywhere you need to see.
What tells a good kitchen light from a cheap one comes down to the parts you only notice once they fail. A solid metal shade holds its shape and its color for years, a thin stamped one dents if you breathe near it and the finish goes patchy within a season, especially over a stove where grease and heat do their work on cheap plating. Glass should feel like actual glass, heavy in the hand, not light enough to worry about a kid's elbow. The joint where the cord meets the canopy matters more than people think, because that's where a wobbly fixture starts to tilt a few degrees every year until your perfectly hung light is squinting sideways at the fridge. Cheap sockets hum. Good ones just sit there holding a bulb quietly, which is honestly all I want from a light fixture.
Where kitchen lighting goes wrong is usually about color and heat, not placement. A warm yellow glow sitting on top of a cool white quartz counter looks like a diner that's given up. And brass pendants against a kitchen already busy with patterned tile and open shelving can tip a room from lively into cluttered fast, so pick your one loud element and let the rest hold back a little, my mother would call this restraint and act shocked that I own the word.
What it sits well with is almost anything with a bit of texture underneath it, a butcher block island, open shelving with mismatched plates, even a plain white kitchen that needs one point of interest overhead. A colored glass pendant over a neutral counter does more for a rental kitchen than a fresh coat of paint ever will, and you don't need the landlord's permission to swap a shade.
The real pleasure is in the small click of a dimmer switch, taking a kitchen from full prep brightness down to the soft glow you want once the dishes are done and everyone's just standing around with a drink.